


easy on the eyes

by ivefoundmygoldfish (melonpanparade)



Series: Through Mystrade-tinted Glasses [5]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-11
Updated: 2014-12-11
Packaged: 2018-03-01 01:29:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2754494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/melonpanparade/pseuds/ivefoundmygoldfish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Mycroft sees Greg wearing glasses for the first time, he stares. Of course, Greg notices.</p>
            </blockquote>





	easy on the eyes

**Author's Note:**

> The picture of [Rupert wearing glasses](http://n1a1u.tumblr.com/post/104400846790/photos-by-geoff-pugh-photographer-on-berwick) was just begging for another glasses fic. I was more than happy to oblige.

It starts with a brief lull in their conversation—after all, there’s only so much Greg is willing to say about Sherlock’s antics for the week before he valiantly attempts to veer the course of the conversation elsewhere.  

“Can I look at your books?” asks Greg.

Mycroft nods his assent. It’s an innocent request to peruse the books lining the walls of the Talking Room of the Diogenes Club, understandable, too, given that it’s the first time their weekly meetings has taken place in the Diogenes Club, rather than the confines of Mycroft’s government cars.

He should have expected it, given that Greg’s file notes the Inspector’s interest in literature. However, when Greg removes one of many leather-bound books from the shelf, Mycroft is reminded once again that there are many things a file is unable to convey. It couldn't have told him how tenderly and reverently Greg holds the book in his hands; couldn't have told him Greg enjoys the smell of books, judging by the way he draws the book close to his face and inhales deeply; couldn't have told him how completely and utterly captivated he would be when Greg slips on a pair of glasses before thumbing through the pages.

“Glasses, Gregory?” Mycroft manages to ask, once he’s regained his composure—composure that doesn’t last for long, however, because Greg looks up and flashes him the crooked, boyish smile that never fails to make Mycroft feel like his heart is forcefully beating its way out of his chest. He finds himself staring once more, completely unaware of the way his lips have parted in concentration.

“Yeah, eyes are finally catching up to my grey hairs. Old man, me.”

“Hardly.” Out of all of the ways Mycroft could describe Greg and his greying head of hair, old man would not be one of them. He’s more inclined to call Greg distinguished, handsome, immensely attractive…  

“I’m getting there.” Greg shakes his head and sighs softly. “Can’t really run around London the same way Sherlock does anymore. With this Dr Watson fellow around, maybe I'll be able to salvage the last of my brown hair. Might finally have some time to read some of these books of yours, too. You have so many titles I’ve never even heard of.”

Mycroft’s eyes remain trained on Greg; he notes how the brown plastic frames enhances the rich brown of Greg’s irises; he notes how well the glasses suit Greg’s face, perched snugly on the bridge of his nose. For a fleeting moment, Mycroft is tempted to lie—to insist that the books are only available for reading in the Diogenes Club—anything to see Greg wearing glasses on a regular basis. But he doesn’t. Instead, he reluctantly, “Perhaps you’d like to take some books home?”

In the very instant Greg tilts his head to the side and says, “No, I think I’ll just read them here, if you don’t mind,” Mycroft realises Greg knows. And if the meaningful look Greg is pinning Mycroft with means anything, Mycroft realises Greg is willing to indulge him, too.

The corners of his lips tip up into a smile. “I don’t mind at all, Gregory.”


End file.
